Progeny
by Catheryne
Summary: Future fic. The past and the future intertwine to reveal the different aspects of love threading through family secrets. Blair/Chuck
1. Chapter 1

Progeny

Summary: Future fic. The past and the future intertwine to reveal the different aspects of love threading through family secrets.

AN: This story is mildly inspired by another story I did called "Heritage," which is a Chloe/Lex story for Smallville. The storyline is different but the theme is the same.

Pairing: Chuck/Blair, Nate/Serena

Spoilers: Season 1 is fair game.

Part 1

Even with his face marred by the years, Chuck Bass looked as devilishly playful as ever on the photograph shown on the screen. Serena gasped at the news as it spilled from the lips of the anchorwoman. She turned quickly to her husband, who set down his glass of brandy on the table and pulled himself up to his feet.

"Nate, I'm sorry," she said to him while her own heart broke at the news. Chuck Bass had once been her stepbrother too, and his death shook her to her very core.

"_This isn't going to make any difference," Nate told him firmly, closing his hand over his best friend's shoulder._

_Chuck violently tore himself away from Nate's hold. "The decision is final," he rasped. He strode out the door and slammed it closed._

_When Nate exited the room and emerged into the crowd, his eyes immediately searched for his best friend. Chuck Bass stood with a glass, staring down at the hypnotizing amber liquid inside. Nate closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then walked over to him._

"_I was out of line for being angry with you," Chuck whispered in a harsh voice. "But I haven't changed my mind. You have control over my estates. This isn't going to be a problem."  
_

_Nate's gaze flew to Serena, who stood tall and beautiful amidst the crowd. She nodded sadly at him. "Roses grow here all year round," Nate whispered. He looked at Chuck's dark hooded eyes. He shook his head. Then he pulled Chuck into a tight hug, then rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "I love you, man."_

_Chuck closed his eyes tightly, choking on his breath. "Just say you'll do it," he growled._

Nate Archibald walked unsteadily out into the sprawling gardens of their Los Angeles garden. Serena watched him from afar as he sat on the edge of the large fountain, ran his hands through his blonde hair speckled with silver, and then stared up at the marble cherubim angel pouring in that frozen immortal pose pouring water from a jug.

"Grandma, is he gonna be okay?"

Serena looked down at the heart-shaped face of the teenager in front of her, who red lips formed a perfect pout of concern at Nate's sudden exit from the family room. "Why don't you go and check on him, sweetheart?" she suggested. "I'm going to go call your father in the New York office just to make sure he knows."

The teenager nodded. She watched her grandmother climb up the staircase and then turned to her grandfather. Christina walked across the grassy lawn to where Nate Archibald sat silently pondering the still angel. "Grandpa," she said softly, "I know he was your best friend. I'm so sorry."

Nate's lips curved, then he turned his gaze from the angel to the lovely girl that stood in front of him. When she looked like that, so sad and so concerned, he remembered another young girl from long ago, whose name had all but dropped off the face of the world. "I need you to go New York," he told her, surprising Christina with the request. "I want you in Chuck's home and inventory his files."

Her brows furrowed. "Grandpa, why can't the other lawyers do it?" she asked, well aware that interns such as she would never be allowed near an estate as vast as Chuck Bass'.

"Because I want you there," Nate said firmly. "This man was my best friend. I want someone special there."

"What about dad?" she asked. "He's in the New York office."

Nate shook his head. "Your dad… his head won't be in the right place. He's probably a mess." At the look on her face, Nate explained, "He'd been working closely with Chuck for a long time, Christina."

Christina sighed, then nodded. "Alright, grandpa. For you, I'll go." She leaned towards Nate and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I'll go right now."

He gave her a grateful smile. Nate cupped her face in his hands. His eyes glimmered with tears and he smiled at her. "I'm so proud of you. You're as beautiful as your grandmother was the first day of college."

Christina rolled her eyes. She could not look as far from her grandmother if she tried. "I wish!" She looked back at her grandfather, who was now staring at the water, drowning himself in memories.

_Nate met them at the benches in front of the library. He waved at his three best friends and Serena waved back at him. At the sight of Nate and the mountain of bags at the back of his car, Chuck grinned. He wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and they walked towards him together._

"_Did you bring the entire townhouse with you?" Blair asked._

"_Oh you guys," Serena defended, "it's not that much." She patted the bags. "This is half of what I brought with me."_

_Nate grinned. "I can't bring the entire townhouse even if I wanted to. I'm living in a dorm room," he pointed out, "not a privately leased condo off campus."_

_Chuck shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing but the best for the girl who deserves to have the best," he answered smoothly. _

"_Oh honey," Blair responded, meeting Chuck's lips with a kiss._

"_Get a room!" Serena exclaimed laughingly._

"_As a matter of fact, we've got a three bedroom," Blair answered. Chuck pulled the red ribbon from her ponytail, and her chocolate brown curls spilled down her shoulders. "Chuck!" _

"_It looks better down," he murmured. _

_She grabbed the ribbon from his hand, then tied it around her head like a headband. "Happy?"_

"_Always," was his response._

_Nate allowed, "It really does look lovely down, Blair."_

_She chuckled. "Look at you two. You've become fashion experts." Blair turned to Serena. "When are you registering at Brown?"_

"_I still have two days to hang out!" Serena got into Nate's passenger seat. "Show me around this place," she commanded cheerfully._

"_Alright," Nate called to the two, "we're going for a spin. You two go and move in to your love nest. Meet the two of you for dinner?"_

_Blair threw her head back as Chuck nuzzled her ear. "Sure," she managed._

_Serena rolled her eyes. "We'll keep ringing you until you arrive. Don't christen all the rooms in one day," she reminded them._

Christina looked up at the grand townhouse. She slid her key into the lock and turned, then waited as the door slowly opened. She stepped onto the carpeted floor. She looked around her and saw the elegant and priceless items littering the place. It spoke volumes about the owner, even if the owner was dead and silenced forever. Christina could tell by the shag carpeting and the leather seats that Chuck Bass lived his bachelor life to the fullest, and nothing was too expensive for him.

She made her way up the stairs, eager to find the home office, do her job and get out. Being in the dead man's house gave her chills. Chuck Bass had been a frequent visitor in the California estate, and always he had seemed like this imposing man who would pick her up and give her a gift then be on his way. As a child she had never been comfortable with the old man. He always seemed so sad when he saw her, so anguished, as if she was not worth looking at.

She tried to smile at him once. Her grandma Serena once dressed her up when Chuck Bass was going to visit them. Christina proudly twirled in her pretty white eyelet dress and her red beribboned headband. Instead of the applause she had expected, Chuck Bass had walked out of the room, her grandpa scolded her grandma and her beautiful grandmother cried.

She shook her head free of the memory. Christina turned the corridor and realized she had no idea where she was going. Reminiscing did not help her navigate through the maze of corridors. She placed her hand on the first doorknob she encountered and pushed the door open.

There was a man seated on the couch. Her heart caught in her throat. She frowned when she recognized the dark head of hair. "Dad?" she whispered. Her father's heart raised and she noticed the tears on his cheeks. "Oh daddy." Christina walked over to him. "What are you doing here?"

Gregory Archibald patted the space beside him on the couch. Dust rose as he did. Christina settled beside him. "Do you know what this room is?"

She grimaced, then looked around. Old furniture, sparse, unsuited to the cut of the room, as if the items had been moved from another location. "A really dirty one?"

He smiled. "It's a museum," he confided, as if it were confidential information. "One of Chuck Bass' obsessions," he told her, and Christina wondered why her father almost seemed happy about it. "All this stuff is from his old college room."

Her dark eyebrow arched. "Well that certainly puts another spin on the term 'pack rat.'" Something caught her eye and Christina rose from the couch and made her way to the mantel. She picked up the framed photograph. "Wow, Uncle Chuck was handsome."

She turned to her grinning father. Gregory went up to her and looked at the picture. "He was still handsome even as an older guy," he argued.

Christina chuckled. "Alright. Well he was hot when he was younger." She placed the frame back and picked up another one, this time of Chuck Bass with his arms around a lovely young woman. "Look, dad. Uncle Chuck had a college girlfriend," she announced, her voice light.

To her surprise, Gregory's lips parted, and he took the picture frame from her almost reverently. "I had been looking for a picture of her for years."

"Dad, you can find anyone's picture on the internet."

He moistened his lips. "I've been in this townhouse so many times over the years and I've never seen a picture of her. I thought he didn't keep any."

The words peaked her curiosity. "Who is it?" She stood on tiptoe to get another look at the photo.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Gregory said.

Christina shrugged, assessing the dark hair, the pale skin, the red full lips and the prim smile. "Not really as pretty as grandma Serena," she told him, loyalty showing through.

"Guess it's a matter of taste," her father said. His fingertips traced the profile on the picture. "I happen to think she's the loveliest woman in the world."

"So who is it, dad? College girlfriend?"

"No, Christina." Gregory smiled as he placed the frame back on the mantel. He looked down at his daughter then pushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "That was Mr Bass' wife."

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Christina's eyes narrowed at her father's statement. "Dad, I may have been a child when I met Mrs Bass but this girl isn't her," she answered, remembering the statuesque French woman whom she had met briefly in her grandfather's office building.

Without thinking twice, Christina whipped out her phone from her bag and typed into a search engine. Her lips parted. "Aha. It feels good to be right!" She showed the display to her father, who looked at the information with a snort. "Billionaire's son marries French actress Vivienne Girard."

"Vivienne Girard was a period in Chuck Bass' life. And he lived to regret that the way she kept cashing allowance checks and going back to dad for more."

"That's why I saw her in grandpa's building." Her eyes fell to the college girlfriend's fingers. "Still, he was probably head over heels for Vivienne once upon a time. I mean, he married her."

_She had the face that made grown men cry. In fact, with each movie that she premiered in France, grown men did walk out of the theater with tears in their eyes. Half the male population who had ever seen her had wanted to bed her. Vivienne Girard had never once in her life thought that one day she would be in a four thousand dollar teddy, red and furious and humiliated._

"_A divorce?" she screeched. "A divorce, Charles?" Vivienne grabbed onto her dresser, slid off her kitten heel shoe and launched it at her husband of four months. _

_Chuck caught it deftly with one hand. "Viv, be reasonable."_

"_Reasonable?" she parroted. " Mon dieu. You think this is reasonable?" She jerkily limped over to her Louis Vuitton and took the brown envelope from inside. She tossed the package over to Chuck. "One month of filming and you've already found yourself a harlot."_

_He flipped through the photos. His jaw ticked at the sight of each one. In several, he had been holding her hand. In another few, there were kisses. And still, in two photos, they were in the balcony of the tropical island resort that he had whisked her away to. Her head was thrown back in abandon, with him between her parted thighs, his hand on the picture clearly disappearing under the sarong. He placed the pictures inside. "You've been having me followed," he said, his voice filled with admiration._

"_And that's reasonable," she told him sarcastically. "Apparently, there was something to find."_

_Chuck smirked. "You're right. So now I don't have to come up with another excuse." He moistened his lips. "Give me a divorce. You get eight million. Not even your pasty lawyer can make a better deal for you given a four month marriage."_

_Vivienne's eyes narrowed. "You cheated on me."_

"_I think we've covered that."_

_She sat on the bed, reached for the envelope and slid out one photograph in particular that made Chuck wince. It was the most innocent of the batch. He was sitting on a blanket on the sand while she slept with her head on his lap. His fingers played with her curls, and he watched her sleep with an expression that, captured by the camera, caused tension to coil in his gut. "This is why I won't give you divorce."_

"_Viv, there's nothing here anymore," Chuck told her, gesturing to her and himself, his voice low. "You know that."_

"_You want to be with this—"_

"_Don't say it," came the soft warning._

_And she knew better than to test him there. "Adulterers don't get rewarded," Vivienne told him. "In fact, this is a brilliant publicity stunt. We can release the pictures, and I can forgive you on tv. Maybe that's the push I need to launch my career in the US, and I can get better billing in this country."_

_Chuck closed his eyes, and she could tell that he was trying to calm down. "I don't want her involved in any of this." His eyes flickered to the picture in her hands. "Don't give her any problems."_

_The actress laugh was bitter. "The wife is adding to the mistress' problems. That's rich!"_

"_Screw the eight mil," Chuck exclaimed. "I'll give you half of everything."_

_She clutched at her chest. "You're so generous!" And then she rolled her eyes. "Why would I ever settle for half?" Vivienne grabbed her bedrobe from the floor and shrugged it on. "The moment I divorce you, you'll come running to her." She forcefully tied the belt around her waist. She stepped closer to her husband. "She's not going to win this, Charles."_

_She saw the walls around him crumble before her very eyes. His voice was fraught with plea. "What do I have to do, Viv? Tell me."_

_Her lips curved. "We stay married. You change into a nice suit." She reached out and patted his chest. "We're going out to dinner and we're going to get our photographs taken." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Look pretty, honey. If she can slap me with those photos, I can slap her right back from the front page of OK." She flashed him a brilliant smile, and Chuck just knew that that was the exact smile he was going to find on the pages of the tabloids by the end of the week._

Christina browsed the net through her phone, eager to find pictures of Uncle Chuck's wife Vivienne. She had to be stunning to get Chuck Bass to commit, even though as her father had hinted, it had not been a marriage made in heaven. When happened upon a French fansite dedicated to her and navigated her way through the pages, grateful for Serena's insistence that Christina learn French. She had despised the language at first because of her initial difficulty in grasping it.

"You know what, dad," she said, making conversation as she looked through the pictures of Vivienne Bass, "I never understood why grandma kept insisting I learn French. I mean, she couldn't even conjugate a single infinitive, but she kept me locked two hours a day for French tutorials."

"You never asked her?"

She looked up and her father was sitting in front of the coffee table, going through some school books and magazines, flipping through pages while leaning against the foot of the couch. "I did. She gave me some weird reason that she uses of grandpa—like it would really warm her heart to hear me speaking in French or something."

Gregory shook his head. "Sounds like mom." He shrugged. "So she never told you you had family in France? Heck, you're probably richer there than here in the States. There are lands there with your name on the title."

Her eyes widened. "Wait. Really? Wow. Is it because grandpa's mom was a French heiress? Did she leave me everything?"

"That's a discussion for later," Gregory answered. He turned to his daughter, "So my law student daughter hasn't gone digging yet, huh?" He picked up a book of poems next.

"Dad, seriously, what are you doing here?" she asked finally as her father browsed.

Out fell a single photograph. He smiled. There it was. Proof that Chuck Bass had been coming back to this room, this environment, this life. He held up the picture that Vivienne had so despised. Right there, on the beach, Blair Waldorf slept and Chuck Bass watched with his fingers threading through her hair.

It was perfect.

_It had never been a question to Chuck Bass. In fact, he had known this day would come since he was ten, sitting alone in the swings because no other kid dared to take the other one. He was young and spoiled and wanted only either Blair Waldorf or Nate Archibald to use the other swing, and his glares told every other kid so. Even while Blair swooned over his best friend, Chuck Bass knew that sooner or later, he would see Blair Waldorf walking towards him in a short white dress, clutching a bouquet, prepared to promise him forever. He just wished it hadn't taken him so long._

"_This is insane," she whispered into his ear when he met her halfway down the white carpet on the sand._

_His nostrils flared at the scent of her. It assailed his senses and he forced himself not to grab her then and ravage her in front of Nate, who still shook his head in disapproval of what Chuck wanted to do. "This is what we should have done years ago." He took her face in his hands, and she blinked up at him blearily. "I won't let you go again." He ran him thumb over her pale lips. When she closed her eyes at the sensation, he placed a kiss on trembling lashes. "Are you okay?"_

_She nodded unsteadily, then clutched his arm as they walked the rest of the way to the front. "They all know this isn't real," she said, uncomfortable with everyone's attention for the first time in her life._

_He tipped her chin up so he could look down into her eyes. "None of our friends would ever think this isn't real, Blair."_

_She turned her head slightly to see the audience, and found the handful of people that he had invited smiling at her in encouragement. Even Nate, who had expressed to Chuck over and over how unwise the move was, seemed to support her. "Your lawyer is going to die," she teased._

"_He'll iron out the kinks later," he assured her. "Nate adores you. You know that."_

_The man in front of them started to speak, and Blair said in a low voice, "He probably adored me better when I was your mistress."_

_Chuck's jaw tightened at the word. Blair raised her hand to touch the taut skin, silently apologizing for using the word he despised, but was just too real. He caught her hand in both of his and raised it to his lips for a kiss._

"I'm going to look for his study," she told her father. "Grandpa Nate just needs all the legal documents I can find. I better get moving." Christina opened the door and stepped outside to the corridor. She walked down and stopped outside a white door. She pushed it open and peered at the darkness inside.

Christina's hand groped along the whole until she found the bump. She flipped on the light switch.

"Wow," she whispered.

The lone canopy bed stood as the centerpiece of the room. She stepped inside and ran her hand over the intricate carving on the posts. She had only ever seen beds like these in movies where the main character was a princess, and the canopy bed, with its sheer curtains, shielded her from the rest of the world. Christina grinned at the thought that Chuck Bass actually owned a princess' bed.

On the bedside table, set in a gilded frame, was a photograph. She picked it up now, mostly because of her father's newly discovered curiosity than her own.

Christina stepped outside and returned to the other room, where her father still sat on the carpet, now looking through notebooks. "Here."

Gregory looked up and saw the picture in her hand. He reached for it. "This is the first time he looks sad."

She frowned. "You think they had a fight?"

"No," he replied softly. "Look at the way his arms are wrapped around her."

The corner of her lips twitched. "Looks kind of desperate."

"It does." He placed it to the left of the beach picture.

_The day she returned, she hoped that it would be quiet; the day she would leave, even more so._

_Blair Waldorf placed the sunglasses on and wrapped the scarf around her hair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The cold air bit into her nostrils, and she adored it. New York would always be home, no matter where she went. _

_When she stepped into the old house, she handed her coat to the maid and removed her scarf. Her brown hair spilled onto her shoulders._

"_Aaron," she greeted her stepbrother with a kiss on the deck. _

"_Blair!" he greeted in surprise, not expecting to see her. "How are you?"_

_She responded with a tight smile, and pulled away from the embrace that went a little too long. "As well as can be expected," she answered._

"_Thank you for coming."_

"_It's my mom. Of course I would've come." _

"_Sweetheart!"_

_Blair looked up and saw her mother sitting on the couch, looking as polished and classy as ever in one of her own creations. Even the scarf around her head that hid the bald spots coordinated with her outfit. Blair broke into a smile and walked over to her, then knelt in front of her mother. "You should've asked them to call me sooner," she admonished Eleanor._

"_Nonsense," was her mother's response, patting her cheek gently. Eleanor laid her forehead against Blair's. "You look wonderful, sweetheart."_

"_And you look very sick," Blair responded with concern._

"_Sicker than you?"_

_Blair smiled sadly. "You just couldn't let me go first. Even once," Blair teased lightly. _

"_Chuck's visited me," Eleanor told her daughter. "And so did Nate and Serena. They all ask me about you. Sweetheart, I never knew you would just leave like that. You broke his heart."_

"_Did he come with his wife?" Blair parried._

"_He's not happy."_

_Blair stood up and then settled down on the couch beside her mother. "This is better," she said._

"_Are you telling me, or are you trying to convince yourself?" Eleanor reached for Blair's hand and squeezed it. _

_Blair felt her throat tighten. Three years she had been missing her mother. For three years, her self-imposed exile had robbed her of the human contact she had relished in during her time with Chuck. "How long?" she asked Eleanor._

"_Six months, give or take."_

_Blair nodded. "Then it looks like I'm moving to New York for six months."_

_Eleanor smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart. I wouldn't have asked."_

"_I know." Blair placed a kiss on Eleanor's cheek. "I'll have them take my bag upstairs. And then I'm coming back down."_

_Blair took one of her bags up while Aaron and the maid took care of the rest. Blair ran her palm down the familiar wooden railing as she descended, deep in thought. Sooner or later, she would have to face all of them, and she had to have an answer._

"_Six months," rumbled a male voice. "Maybe now I'm going to find out why you left me in the middle of the night junior year."_

"_Chuck." It was the first time his name passed through her lips in three years._

_He was watching her as she climbed down. He met her on the bottom step. "So I assume the answer's no," he said, referring to the last question he asked her before she went missing._

"_Does it matter now?" she answered softly, because she was not going to tell him that if it hadn't been for the hell that was her destiny, she would have said yes a million times over._

"_No, it doesn't."_

_Blair nodded and made her way back to the living room where her mother was. Chuck stayed for an hour. Through it all, she felt his eyes on her, boring deep into her soul._

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Gregory's fingers ran down the edge of the old book, carefully turning the pages one by one. His eyes skimmed each page. Christina watched his father frown at the content, then close the book and place it down on top of the pictures.

"What is it, dad?" She bent down and picked up the book. "It's a poetry collection. Tennyson," she murmured. "I didn't know Uncle Chuck liked poetry."

Gregory nodded, then leaned back on the couch. "There were many things you didn't know about him."

She turned the pages and saw an entry in the table of contents that was highlighted with fading yellow. "Crossing the Bar," she read. She flipped to the page indicated to find the page torn clear. "It's gone."

_She was, as she had always been, ethereal in the way she floated into the restaurant. Chuck Bass watched from beneath hooded lids, seated in a shadowed booth of the hotel restaurant. Learning that she was finally back was one thing, but accepting that she had no intention of telling him why she had abandoned him without word was another, and he found himself looking for more and more ways to answer his questions._

_Blair Waldorf took the drink from her companion and leaned forward, seemingly to whisper answers to whispered questions. She looked up and around her, as if to check if anyone she knew was around. Maybe she felt his eyes on her. Chuck growled low in his throat when the man reached for her hand and brushed his thumb across her wrist._

_Blair's hand fluttered to her throat, and she reached for the glass in front of her. In front of his eyes, her hand stopped short and tipped the glass over, causing the water to spill onto the table. Immediately, a waiter reached for the glass and placed it right side up. The man in front of Blair stood quickly and helped her out of her seat._

_She reached for the waiter's arm, and to Chuck, it looked as if she apologized. He watched in concern as a pale and disoriented Blair Waldorf nodded at what her companion whispered into her ear. Chuck slid out of his booth and followed closely behind the two._

_The man led Blair to the elevator. Chuck flagged the hotel manager, who recognized the owner immediately. "I need their room number."_

"_Sir, that's highly inappropriate."_

_Chuck's jaw tensed. Something was not right, and he would be damned if that man didn't slip Blair something in her drink. "The number or your job," he growled softly._

"_2215."_

_He stalked towards the elevator and entered at the same time that other people were getting off. When a couple was supposed to get in, he signaled for them to stop. Then he pushed the button to close the elevator doors and hit 22. The six seconds it took before the elevator stopped on his desired floor were hell for Chuck. He paced inside the elevator, and then looked up anxiously when the doors opened. _

_His legs took him quickly to room 2215. He opened the door and was surprised when it gave without force. It was then that he saw the man leaning over Blair, who was only half-conscious. The man's fingers were on her collar undoing the buttons._

_Chuck laid a heavy hand on the man's shoulder and pushed him away from Blair. He threw a punch and sent the man down onto the ground._

"_What the hell!" the man yelled, then reached for the phone to call security._

"_Get your hands off her. What did you give her?" he demanded. "A sedative? Roofie? Are you in fucking high school?" Chuck went over to Blair and lifted her head, then slapped her cheek several times. "Waldorf, say something," he commanded._

_She turned her head briefly to keep away from the slap. "Bass?" she whispered softly._

"_I'm here."_

"_Leave him alone," she groaned. "Water," Blair choked._

_The man was there immediately with a cup of water in one hand and a cold compress in the other. "I take it you know this man."_

_Blair raised herself up and the man assisted her in sipping some of the water. She smiled gratefully when he stepped away and then returned with a small orange pill. She took the pill and downed it with water. "That's Chuck Bass," she explained._

"_I see. Then I should probably leave you alone for a few. Don't worry, Blair. Let the pill do its work."_

_She nodded and waiter until he was out the door before facing Chuck. "So—"_

"_What the hell is this, Blair?"_

"_It's why I left," she confessed._

_Chuck sat in front of her in silence, his eyes roaming her face, noticing not for the first time, but registering the paleness that was so different from the flawlessness of high school. He saw the eyes that were much dimmer that college. And then, of their own volition, his hands reached for hers and he turned her arms, then saw them—small bruises littering her skin. And still, he did not recognize them, because to do so meant it was true. Even though he knew her answer, he asked, "What? Because you're on drugs?" came the soft, meaningless accusation, because if rehab was the answer, then it was easy._

_She shook her head sadly. _

"_Because you can't hold your liquor?" he prompted, because it could still be a viable explanation for her near collapse in the restaurant below. "I could have helped you in that case. I did my masters in holding my liquor."_

'_Chuck—"_

"_Did you leave because you have an uncontrollable need to be with strange men like that wimp you just left?" She bit her lip. "What possible reason could there be, Blair?" The only one left, he wouldn't verbalize._

_And she cut in, because it needed to be said. "I'm dying."_

_And he sneered his anger at the words he already expected. "You're fucking kidding me," he exclaimed. _

_She took a deep breath. "That man is a doctor I'm considering so I can stay here in Manhattan. I found out the afternoon before I left." _

_Right before he proposed, his mind teased. "You find out you're dying, so you ran away."_

_Blair shook her head. "We were high on life. I didn't want to bring you down."_

_And Chuck's vision blurred. He suspected it could be tears. "Fuck that, Blair. I did everything you wanted. I went to college with you, almost killed myself catching up to everyone so I could qualify. You knew how much I loved you. You don't get to use that reason." Her hand reached up and she brushed her fingers on his cheeks. That was when he knew he was crying. "You don't get to play the self-sacrificing role in this movie. I don't get to be the asshole who wouldn't have understood something like this."_

_Blair shook her head, then looked down at her hands that were wet with his tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered._

"_Why did you leave?"_

"_You wanted to get married." She sniffled. "What kind of life would we have had?"_

_He smiled bitterly. "Probably a lot happier than what we have now."_

"_Vivienne is beautiful."_

_But he would not let her change the subject. "Why did you leave me? If it was just the proposal, you know me well enough to know that you could've said no and I would've just tried again later."_

_And it was true. Back then, in college, playing house the way they did, he probably would have done just that. "It wasn't you."_

"_You're throwing a cliché at me now, hoping it will shut me up?"_

"_It really wasn't," she insisted. "It was me. You made me feel so beautiful, like for the first time, and only in your eyes, I was more beautiful than Serena, or anyone else."_

_He frowned at the words. "Because you were. You were perfect."_

"_I wanted to stay perfect," she confessed. "I didn't want to feel what it would be like when I know you see me differently. These bruises are nothing. Today's a good day. On a bad day, when I wake up and I can't even pull myself up, I vomit in my bed." She blinked, because if she cried, this would be worse. "When I underwent treatment the first time, Chuck, my hair started to fall off. Can you imagine?" She put on a brave smile. "Clumps of hair. There were bald spots and—" then his lips were on hers, and he was devouring her, kissing her like today was the last day of their lives while at the same time, as if the last _

_three years didn't pass, and they were still young, in love, and planning a life together. "Chuck," she gasped, when she could finally breathe again._

"_You know me," he rasped into her ear._

_And it meant one thing to her. "You're married."_

_He slid his ring off and placed it on the sheet in front of them. "I'll get a divorce," he promised. "Three words, Blair," he said, echoing her own request once upon a time. "Eight letters. Do you?"_

_She nodded. "I never stopped."_

"_Say it."_

"_I love you." And then she hesitated. "Chuck, are you sure? You're seeing a very good period of this thing. It can be so much worse and—" She was silenced with his finger on her lips. _

"_I love you," he answered. Chuck pulled her to him and painted a picture for her. "Imagine a beach, so secluded we can only get there by private chopper. We'll be lying in the sand, on an island so small you can see water all around you."_

"_Like the edge of the world," she whispered._

"_Just the two of us, Blair."_

_She smiled at the thought. Blair laid her head on his chest. She heard his heart beating, fast, steady. She wanted to hear his heartbeat forever. _

_If only she could. _

_Her hand slid inside her pocket and she gripped the folded piece of paper. She sat up, then knelt on the bed in front of Chuck. "I'll go," she said breathlessly._

"_You will?"_

"_Promise me one thing."_

"_Anything in the world."_

_She grasped his hand in both of hers. "Give me a baby, Chuck."_

_He sucked in his breath. "No."_

"It's probably lying around somewhere in Mr Bass' things," Christina commented. "Why would he tear the page? This is a first edition. It's probably worth my entire tuition."

Gregory shook his head. "Mom mentioned this book to me. It didn't belong to Mr Bass." He gestured for his daughter to turn to the first page. "See? It's from Harold Waldorf to his ex-wife."

"So it was Blair's. Did she tear the page? That wasn't a very wise move."

"She placed the poem in her mother's hand when they buried Eleanor," he informed his daughter. "She used to read it to her mother."

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

"That was a high school requirement, wasn't it?" she murmured. "I don't remember the poem." Christina pulled out her handy cellphone. "Fortunately, you can get everything off the net."

Her father waved her off with a small smile. "Sunset and evening star," his deep voice begun, and the first line was like cold fingers running down her spine. She had heard the poem before. Her grandmother had sponsored a children's choir that sung a chilling rendition of that poem on Uncle Chuck's fortieth birthday, and he had abruptly left the conservatory immediately at the start of the performance. It had been such a shame, because it was sung so wonderfully. Her father continued, "and one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar when I put out to sea."

_Blair took a deep shuddering breath, the piece of paper trembling in her hands the only outward sign of her emotions. Chuck's hand tightened on her shoulder. She opened her mouth to continue, because it had become a ritual for the past six months of waiting beside the hospital bed, and knowing nothing was going to change._

"_But such a tide as moving seems asleep," she continued breathlessly. Blair choked on the last word, and knew she wasn't ever going to finish. The worn page fell onto the bed and she grasped Eleanor's hand and brought it to her lips. "Mommy." Her eyes roamed her mother's profile, burning the image to her brain. This was the last picture she would ever have of the woman that she had lived with for so long, whose affection for her she had doubted for too long. Yet when it all came down to this, Blair knew only one thing._

_Today was the day her mother died._

_Across the bed from her stood her father, who came for his daughter as much as he did for the woman who used to be his wife. "This was the last thing she wanted to hear, Blair. Your voice, these words."_

"_I can't," she gasped._

_And then it was Chuck whispering into her ear. "Of course you can. I'll help you." He held up the page in front of her._

_The tears in her eyes blurred her vision, and she shook her head, causing teardrops to spatter on the pristine sheet. "I can't even read it."_

"_Then say it after me," he offered gently, softly. Into her ear, he relayed, _"_Too full for sound and foam."_

_Blair moistened her lips with a hot tongue. "Too full for sound and foam," she repeated softly. _

"_When that which drew from out the boundless deep," came Chuck's deep, calm voice._

_Her face crumpled, because she remembered what was coming afterwards. She looked up at the heart monitor. With her impaired vision, she could only see the outline and the colors, but she knew what they meant. She said the next line without his prompting, "Turns again home." She blindly turned and delved into his arms. She felt his kiss on her temple. She shook her head. "I don't want this," she told him._

_And he didn't need to ask her to explain. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and tightened his embrace. After discovering Blair's secret, it was almost instant, like a truth in front of him the entire time. This was her reason. This was not going to happen to them._

_Eleanor wanted to hear these lines, listen to Blair's voice as she drifted off. She had told her husband once. But this was killing her daughter. Chuck's voice picked up the rest. "Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark."_

_Blair lifted her head from his chest, brushed the tears away and looked up at him. His eyes were dry. His arms were around her as he continued. She noticed the poem on the sheet, and she wondered when it was that he had memorized the poem. "For though from out our bourne of Time and Place, The flood may bear me far—" _

_And she knew him well enough to recognize that it was difficult to say those words in front of her. If he could do it for someone he loved, she could do it for her mother. She extricated herself from his arms then sat on her mother's bedside again. She clutched Eleanor's hand, and she knew that this was it. "I hope to see my Pilot face to face, when I have crost the bar," she finished._

_True to her plan, the moment her daughter granted her request, Eleanor Waldorf's chest rose and fell for the last time. _

Christina released the breath she had been holding. "Dad," she said softly, "you know it by heart."

"It was one of my favorites," Gregory told his daughter. He rose to his feet then walked out of the door. Christina followed closely behind. "Did you find the home office?"

She shook her head. "All I found was a bedroom."

"Mr Bass' bedroom?" He frowned. "It can't be. His is on the other wing."

"It's a woman's bedroom. Maybe it was Vivienne's?" She led her father to the room she had left earlier. "Here," she told Gregory when they stopped in front of the door.

When she reached for the knob, Gregory held up his hand. "Why don't you go ahead and search for the office?" he suggested.

"You're not coming." Gregory shook his head, his gaze fixed on the door. "There's nothing special in there," she warned. Gregory's lips curved, then he pushed the door open and closed it behind him.

The dark mahogany table right beside the door was dusty, with a clearing at the center where he suspected Christina had taken the photograph from. He reached his hand out gingerly to run his finger through the dust that had collected with age. His movement was purposeful and silent as he reached underneath and pulled open the drawer.

And there it was. He picked it up and held it up to the light, and despite the years, it glittered with its brilliance.

_She was surrounded by everything he could afford. Nothing was spared. She lay on Egyptian silk, black, because she asked for black. Blair knew the image she provided on that canopy bed, in her cream night gown, surrounded by glimmering black silk, her hair in disarray, curled in defeat on top of the sheets._

_It was dinner time. Chuck would be waiting for her in the dining room. He had arrived from work an hour ago, on the dot, just as he did every day since he convinced her to live with him. Every night, at six, he came home. Every night, at six, she would meet him in the living room, and they would spend the hour _

_waiting for dinner to be served in the living room, with a television show blaring in the background, washing them with flickering lights as they sat in the darkness._

_One week into the ritual he reached for her and drew her to his lap, and she had laid down her head on his shoulder. And then it was part of the ritual. The rest of the world fell away, every day, at five minutes past six in the evening, when he held her in his arms in the darkened living room, and she laid her cheek against his shoulder, letting his breathing drown out the noise of the television._

_Today was the first day she broke the ritual. Today, she recognized, would not be the last._

_The door swung open, and he stepped inside. She looked up at him as he stood silently by the door, looking at her. He broke into a smile, but the look in his eyes belied the truth. She saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips. He walked towards her and parted the flimsy curtain of the canopy bed. _

"_Hey," came his soft voice, "dinner's served."_

_She nodded, a lone tear rolling out of the corner of her eye, dropping onto the silk sheet, darkening even the black. Blair closed her eyes._

_And then he was behind her, his body pressing up behind her. The warmth of him against her, where she was so cold, overwhelmed her. Chuck was wearing his shoes still, to her bed. Yet he spooned up behind her and placed a kiss to her temple. "I missed you tonight," came his voice into her ear. _

_Blair took a deep breath, and allowed his lips on the shell of her ear to soothe her. "I couldn't get up," she whispered._

_His hand ran down her arm, up and down, warming her skin. "It's alright, Blair. You don't have to. I can have dinner brought to you."_

"_I don't want dinner in the bedroom, like some sort of invalid," she replied coldly. Blair tried to raise herself by her elbow, but lay back down when the nausea assailed her._

"_It's okay, Blair," he assured her. "It's the meds. The worse you feel now, the better you'll be. It means it's working, right?"_

"_I'm not a child," she responded bitterly. "I want to go downstairs; I want to sit with you on the couch not watching tv; I want to not break a nightly dinner date with you. I want to get up off this bed—"_

_And he was reaching for her. She closed her eyes, because the movement brought bile to her throat. Blair pressed her face against the crook of his neck, fighting against the dizziness that threatened. She was up against his chest, and she knew he was moving. Blair wrapped her arms around his neck._

_And then they were out the door, and he was carrying her down the stairs. Halfway down, the hanging sensation became too much, and she grasped his shirt for him to stop. Blair grasped for the stairway railing and steadied herself onto her knees. The bathroom was too far away, and she knew she wouldn't make it. Her eyes slammed into Chuck's, who leaned down in front of her. His hand rested on her back. "It's okay, Blair."_

_She swallowed, then felt the hair on her nape rise. Blair vomited onto the carpeted stairs. She heaved and threw up the dark mixture of every medicine she had taken that day. Blair winced when she recognized her lunch along with it. "I'm sorry," she gasped._

_He handed her a glass of water, and placed a large bowl in front of her. "Wash your mouth," he suggested. "You'll feel better."_

"_This is disgusting," she hesitated. Chuck smiled. She took water into her mouth and spat it out into the bowl, which in turn he handed to the maid that had delivered it to him in the first place. "I ruined the carpet," she said mournfully._

_He shook his head. "Daily rituals are more important," he told her. "Come on." Chuck helped her up on her feet and down to steps. When she stumbled, he lifted her back into his arms and they proceeded to the living room, where he settled them onto the couch and flipped on the tv, playing another show that went unnoticed. _

"_Blair," he said softly. She lifted her head from its comfortable place on his shoulder and blinked up at him. He held up something that shone in the darkness, reflecting the light from the television. Her lips parted as she recognized what it was. "Promise me you'll marry me."_

_She drew a tremulous breath, reached for the ring and looked down at it. Then her eyes fell to his hand. Her fingers traced the gold band adorning his finger. He raised his hand to cup her cheek, and the metal on his finger seemed to sear her skin. Blair closed a hand over his then slid off his ring. She placed it on the table in front of them. "Put it back on later, when you have to go back." She assessed their naked hands. She handed him back the diamond ring. "No need for empty proposals, Chuck. I'm not going anywhere."_

_And the words just reminded him that she was, and when she did, he wasn't ever going to get the chance. He slid the ring on her finger. When she started to protest, he silenced her with a kiss. "I can't change that I married her," he breathed against her lips. "But I can choose you, and I do. I did, every time."_

_The diamond glinted on her finger, and it sat as if it had always belonged there. "You have a wife," was her weak reply, as if she needed to convince herself of the fact._

"_I do," he confessed. "You." _

Gregory's hand closed around the engagement ring. He turned around and assessed the empty bed. It was far more than he had expected, and the old man's decisions slowly made sense to him, coaxed understanding from the abandoned.

tbc

Please review so I know how the story is received. Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Uncle Chuck was not the most responsible of them all. Christina learned it from her grandfather's stories. Yet time and again he would step up and surprise them all with small, generous acts that put Nate to shame. And so Christina always suspected that despite what his friends believed, Uncle Chuck really was organized and clean.

Approaching his desk and seeing the numerous stacks of folders did much to sway her opinion. This was going to be a long day if she was going to go through all of these and determine which would be important to her grandfather in terms of disposing Chuck Bass' properties. It would have been far easier if Uncle Chuck had a family still, because if there was found to be no will, then everything could go directly to his children. Of course, even in death, Chuck would not make it easy on his friend and lawyer.

She picked up an envelope that was right on top of the pile. It was a deed of sale to a small tropical island, dated 2013. She recalled the picture that his father had been looking at earlier, and wondered if this was that beach. Even more, why would an almost fifty year old deed of sale land at the top of the pile? It had to mean that Uncle Chuck had been going through these papers last before his death.

She leafed through the contents of the package and found the stationery envelope. She pulled out from inside a pale blue card and a preserved, flattened flower. Christina shook her head in confusion. This was specifically the types of information that was going to throw the legal proceedings into a loop. She remembered her father referring to the woman in one of the photographs as Uncle Chuck's wife. However, she had been shadowing under a lawyer that had handled one of Chuck Bass' companies. She knew for a fact that Vivienne was the only documented marriage for the old man.

She picked up her phone and dialed her grandfather's phone. "Grandpa!"

"Christina, how's it coming? Ready to come home?" came Nate's voice from the other end of the line.

"If anything, I think I'll be stuck here even longer," she replied. "Did you know about Chuck Bass' second wife?" she demanded. "Because this doesn't look like an open and shut case. We're talking billions and a possible second family that's going to demand their share." Christina dumped all of the envelope contents onto the desk and rifled through them.

Nate sighed. "There's no one from Vivienne's side who can claim any stake into the Bass properties, Christina. They never had a child. And she did divorce him around 2016. The settlement was more than generous." It was the year that the actress married his executive producer, and Chuck had not cared enough to put a fight.

As she was rifling through the contents, she saw the small book of signatures. "You didn't answer my question, grandpa. Did you know about this second wife? You could have warned me," she continued, knowing that if she was any other intern she would just take the blow and start over.

"There's no second wife," Nate answered.

A pause. Christina squinted to read the writing on the third page of the small book. "Then why am I looking at a guestbook page that had yours and grandma's best wishes for the happy couple?" She found it difficult to read the entire message. Her grandmother's writing was not very legible, but she finally made it out. "There's a Clair?"

"Blair," Nate corrected her. "Blair Waldorf. It wasn't a real wedding, Christina. It was a ceremony. Nothing legal. He was still married to Vivienne. It didn't mean anything," he assured his granddaughter, knowing all the while that the entire day probably meant more to his best friend than the grand, publicity filled wedding he had had in New York.

"Blair Waldorf," she whispered. Finally, a name to go with the pictures. "Brown hair, brown eyes. College girlfriend?"

Nate almost chuckled, because the six words seemed so empty when encompassing the person herself. Still, he answered, "Yes. How did you know?"

Christina rolled her eyes. "You should come here," she suggested. "Dad and I are finding rooms left and right that are virtual museums."

"Your father's there?" Nate asked, his voice quiet.

"Uhuh," she answered. "Dad, are you sure Blair Waldorf isn't going to make problems for us when it comes to inheritance? I mean, this looks like an actual wedding invitation. She can still sue for millions if she finds out that her fake husband's dead."

Nate blinked at the cool manner with which Christina asked the question. He wondered how Gregory would approach him about it now. He suspected that his son had put it all together now, or else, he would have stayed clear of the Bass townhouse without express orders from Nate. "Don't worry about Blair. She died a long time ago."

"Great," she muttered. "The last thing we need is an old woman chasing after Uncle Chuck's estate."

_When Chuck could not go with her for her doctor's appointment, he would phone Serena to ensure that Blair would have a companion. Today was one of those days and Blair appreciated that there were some days when Chuck would not have to sit through the grueling explanation of how she could make her life better, of what to do and eat to stay fit, even if they could not do anything about the illness. He had had too much of that talk, and she always felt his frustration mounting at the fact that they could not make it better._

_The treatment itself was not spectacular, Blair thought, as she forced herself to walk in a straight line through the nausea. Serena looped her arm through hers in both a friendly gesture and to keep her up._

"_Are you sure you don't want to rest here? We can get a small private room until you feel better," Serena suggested._

_She shook her head, and immediately registered that it wasn't a good idea. "I'd rather wallow in my own house." Blair forced a smile. "And then I can have Chuck spoon with me."_

"_B!" Serena exclaimed laughingly. "At least that's a good sign if you can still make pervy comments."_

_They were at the open parking lot walking towards Serena's convertible when they heard someone call out. "Blair Waldorf!"_

_Blair turned around and saw the red-haired actress walking towards her. Serena, who was right beside her, stepped forward and held up a hand. "Viv, let's not do this."_

_The actress stopped and arched a beautifully shaped eyebrow. "Mrs Archibald, I didn't know you were privy to our dirty laundry." Vivienne's gaze went to Blair. "Why is my lawyer's wife meeting up with my husband's mistress?" Her eyes narrowed. "I had to find out where the need for divorce was coming from. I find myself underwhelmed."_

_Blair drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Vivienne," she started._

_Blood red lips curved. "Call me Mrs Bass."_

_She closed her eyes, because even if she was not the injured party in all this, those words still hurt her. "Vivienne," she repeated._

"_It's Mrs Bass," Vivienne repeated in a harder tone, walking forward to close the gap between them._

"_Blair, let's just go," Serena suggested, tugging at her arm._

"_I'm sorry I hurt you," Blair continued. "But we can't help what we feel. And life's too short to deny that I'm in love with your husband, and he's in love with me." She reached out her hand and took Vivienne's. "Don't you think it's unfair for you to have to stay with a man who doesn't think you're the only person in the world for him?"_

_Vivienne's gaze fell to where Blair was holding her. She brought up their hands to eye level, then glared down at Blair. "How stupid does it make you feel to be wearing an engagement ring that's as expensive at that and know that it's an empty promise?" She held up her own ring finger. "Just like this. Now he wants to leave me for the next slut willing to open her legs for him."_

_Blair snatched her hand back. "I won't respond to that because I know we hurt you. But don't make assumptions on what I have with Chuck." She walked back towards the car, the world spinning around her. Blair clutched at the car door in an effort to keep the world still._

_Serena looked after her best friend in concern then turned back to Vivienne. She was surprised to see the redhead watching Blair with what seemed like pity in her eyes. "Please don't make this any harder on her," she asked._

_Instead of answering Serena, she called out to Blair, "I know why you're here. A girl doesn't get to be Mrs Charles Bass without picking up a few tricks." She smiled grimly. "How long do you have?" She met Blair's eyes in the rearview mirror. "When you're gone, Charles will come back to me. You're the perfect relationship with no strings attached. A few months and then it's over. On our fiftieth year anniversary, you would be a black hole in our lives that people would whisper about. Overall, Blair, you wouldn't have made a difference."_

_Serena watched in awe as Vivienne walked away. She climbed into the driver's seat and found Blair leaning back against the seat, her eyes closed. Before she turned the key in the ignition, she sent a text message, "Come home." _

"You don't need to worry about it, Christina," Nate assured her. "Anything pertaining to Chuck's involvement with Blair Waldorf is on me. I'm responsible for any legal documentation, revision or reallocation that stems from 2013 to 2016, including that packet you have now on the island sale. Just make sure you collect all the documentation."

"2013 to 2016. Got it!" she replied in a business-like manner. The door opened to the study and Christina turned around to see her father step inside. Her voice dropped. "2013 to 2016?" she whispered.

"That's right," Nate answered quietly, knowing that with the mix of genes in Christina's blood, that would be enough.

"Oh my God," she murmured, watching her father walk inside and run his fingers down the wet bar. Christina ended the call with Nate and walked over to Gregory. "Daddy," she said softly. Gregory turned to face his daughter, and she could see the emotion in his eyes. Christina wrapped her arms around her father. "I'm sorry."

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

"_Happy anniversary," he murmured hotly into her ear._

_Blair turned around in his arms and grinned up at him. He had a smile on his face, and she could not help but loop her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. "Happy anniversary. I can't believe it's been a year," she breathed against his lips. Four years ago, she was told that she had barely a year left. Now here she stood, in the embrace of the one man she'd loved beyond all reason. And she was still breathing._

"_Remind me to buy Jeff a car," he told her, and it was the sweetest thing to hear. The first night he had met Jeff Parker, he had thrown a punch in the man's hotel room. A little over a year later the oncologist was at the top of the very short list of people Chuck Bass deemed his heroes. He lifted a four-inch thick stack of envelopes and waved it at her. "Ready for tonight?"_

_She nodded. "Choose wisely," Blair reminded him. It was appalling that a Waldorf had to carefully choose the events she attended, but over the past year she had learned to accept the fact that Vivienne was the sympathetic party in all this. It was she and Chuck that had to maneuver around the woman. "I'll make you some coffee."_

_Chuck grinned as he watched his wife—and that was his wife, no matter what his lawyers said—make her way to the kitchen. He turned back down to the invitations that he had scattered on the dining table. "I don't think the New York City Ballet needs our money this year." He tossed the invitation to the side. "The opera. Broadway." Chuck discarded the two invitations, because if there was anything that Vivienne adored, it was piling Chuck's money into theater arts. "How about the Children's Fund?"_

"_Sounds great!" he heard her call out from the kitchen._

_Chuck separated the invitation and picked up the rest, then made his way to the kitchen to toss it into the trash can. He pulled the small contained from under the sink, then tossed them inside. One envelope, which he remembered to be the ballet one, missed its mark. Chuck bent down to pick it up. A flash of brown glinted from the trash can and he frowned, recognizing the bottle. He picked up the half-full jar and frowned. "Blair," he said softly._

_She turned around with a cup of coffee in her hands. The soft smile on her lips vanished when she saw what he was holding. Her hand trembled, and she spilled some coffee on the floor. Chuck stepped forward and took the cup from her hand, then placed it on the sink._

"_What the hell is this, Blair?"  
_

"_Chuck, I don't need them anymore," she began._

"_So you're all better?" he gritted out, knowing that it was a lie. "You don't need it anymore because the disease just miraculously disappeared."_

_She shook her head. "Chuck, you don't need to be sarcastic."_

"_Better sarcastic than fucking pissed that you've decided to kill yourself under our roof," he replied, his voice cold._

"_I didn't want to tell you until tonight, over our anniversary dinner." She forced a small smile, then took his hand. "I need to stop taking the meds, Chuck." Blair squeezed his hand, then lifted it to her lips. "You're going to be a daddy."_

_His nostrils flared, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by a heady wave. And then his limbs were heavy, and he shook his head. Chuck snatched his hand away. "No."_

_She frowned. "No? It can't be no."_

"_No," he repeated. "We're getting rid of it, Blair."_

_Her hands flew to her tummy in a protective gesture. "What?" she cried in disbelief._

_He took his phone from his pocket, then dialed. "I'm making the appointment. I'm taking you right now."_

_Blair grabbed the phone, then ended the call. "Are you crazy?" she demanded. "Chuck, we're having a baby! Yours and mine. What are you talking about?"_

_He tried to take the phone back. "You're having an abortion," he insisted. "I won't let this kill you."_

_Blair released her breath. "I will not kill this baby, Chuck."_

"_Stop being selfish and listen to me. Think about me, Blair."_

_Her eyes watered at his plea. "This is for you, Chuck. I'm doing this because I love you."_

"_If you loved me, you'd have taken care." His jaw tensed. It was the first time that she saw him so transparent. "You wouldn't have put me in the position where I decide to kill my own child." He shook his head. "And I will decide to kill this baby. Right now. We will terminate the pregnancy if it means that I'm not going to lose you. You're so willing to die."  
_

_She shook her head. Blair stepped forward until they were so close that she only had to lean her head so that her ear was pressed up against his heart. "I'm not," she said softly._

"_Then why?"_

_A smile teased her lips. "God, I'd rather spend an entire lifetime with you."  
_

_He turned his head so that he nuzzled her hair. "This is a fantastic way of showing it," he retorted weakly. _

_She lifted her head so that she was looking into his eyes. Blair cupped his cheek. "You know the prognosis. I'll be gone in a year, two if we're lucky. We never even thought it would last this long. I'm living on borrowed time as it is."_

"_They were wrong before. They can be wrong again. It can be five years, or ten."_

"_Or twenty," she continued. "Or I can die tomorrow." He closed his eyes tightly. "Point is, Chuck, I will make sure that when I do leave, and I will, and soon, I want to make sure I don't leave you alone." She pulled him down so that his forehead rested against hers. "Because we both know you. You will spiral."_

_His eyes still closed, Chuck met her lips for a kiss. "You think so highly of yourself," he answered lightly._

"_I learned from you," was her soft response. "After all, aren't you the one who kept me alive all this time?"_

"_You keep me breathing now," he answered. And then he opened his eyes and he was looking into hers._

_And the statement seemed so real to him, pulled out of his gut with such painstaking truth, that she blinked away the tears that threatened. She was the one who was going to leave. She was the one who was going to hurt him more than anyone ever had. And she felt so ashamed. "I'm sorry," she breathed._

"_No talking," he whispered raggedly. "Not yet."_

_And then she was crying, and she was so afraid. He pulled her to him and he pushed his lips against hers, bruising, forceful, as if he wanted to brand something in her and burn her into his skin. Blair's lips parted under his, and the pain was a vague and welcome reminder that everything they did now would be one of the last. Her hands lifted so that she held his head in his hands. She pulled him closer._

_Her hands reached down to unbutton his shirt. She fumbled with the buttons until he pulled at his shirt himself. Blair's hands pushed the clothing off his shoulders, then ran over his skin hungrily, afraid that she was never going to have the chance again._

"Did you know, daddy?" she asked, looking up at her father.

"Not always," was the answer. "He was very private when it came to Blair. He never spoke about her. But there were moments."

She cocked her head to the side. "Moments?"

"Mom and dad brought me to the hospital for check up every month until I turned eighteen and they couldn't force me anymore. Blood tests, full body work up. I was always so pissed off." Gregory smiled. "And I remember, every time, Chuck Bass managed to pass by and check up on me. And dad always gave him every little detail."

"That could have been easily a concerned family friend."

Gregory nodded. "He called me to his bedside right before he died." He swallowed. "It was our first and last conversation as father and son, I suppose."

Her brows furrowed, unable to imagine how her father must have felt, to find out for sure that one man was his father only to lose him that very hour. "What did he say to you?"

It was a moment he would capture in his brain forever. It was a moment he could not share. Chuck Bass, his father, and two words of apology. And then, he asked for a poem, the poem that Gregory had memorized, of the man who wished to see his Pilot face to face.

_The two year old boy was perched upon Chuck's knee as he clutched at her hand above the sheet. Chuck looked at her and burned her image into his brain. They had long prepared for this, and still he found himself at a loss._

"_Sing to mommy, Greg," she asked. "Sing about the little star. Your nanny said you learned to sing about the twinkling little star."_

_The boy squirmed on his father's lap, then jumped onto the floor. Gregory raced to the other side of the bed and pulled himself up, then scampered to cuddle with his mother._

"_Gregory," Chuck called, knowing the little boy could not limit his attention or his force, "let mommy rest."_

_He watched the unsteady rise of her breast, and knew she was in pain. "Blair," he started._

_Her gaze rose to Chuck, and she shook her head. "It's okay," she rasped. "Just make sure he doesn't stay… after."_

_His nostrils flared. His throat closed, and his chest tightened. Chuck suddenly wanted to do everything they had agreed he would not do. He shook his head. Blair's eyes fluttered closed. He slid his chair closer to her and he leaned over her, then whispered into her ear, "Thank you." Chuck laid a soft kiss on her dry lips. "You belong to me. Always have, always will," he told her, echoing the words from a lifetime ago. Tears slipped out from the edges of her closed eyes. "You're so beautiful. Even now."_

_And because her eyes were closed, he figured it would be okay to let go, just a little, to break a promise. He pressed his fingertips over his shut eyelids, then allowed his tears. "Do you want me to read to you now?"  
_

_She took a deep breath, then brushed a kiss over Gregory's hair. "Go to daddy."_

_And Chuck reached for their son, then sat him on his lap. He didn't need to read, because in a sick twist of fate it was so easy to memorize. "Sunset and evening star," he began._

"_Even star," Gregory repeated._

"_And one clear call for me," Chuck choked. "And may there be no moaning of the bar when I put out to sea."_

_He watched, all the while saying the words she had once had to say to her mother. And now it was his turn, and he wondered when he would ask for the same words to be read to him. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as it slowed, as it disappeared, as eventually, it stopped._

_Chuck rose from his seat with the boy in his arms and stepped outside the room. At the sight of him, Serena burst into tears. Chuck walked up to Nate and handed him his son. _

"_Take him away," he demanded. "I don't want him."_

_Serena stepped forward and took Gregory, who had now begun to cry. "Chuck, you can't blame your son for this."_

_He shook his head. "She was getting better," Chuck stated. "She was getting better until she had to stop. For him. I lost her for him, Serena."_

_Nate laid a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "This is your son. This is Blair's son."_

"_I didn't want him," he repeated. As Gregory cried in his godmother's arms, Chuck wondered why he didn't feel even a pang. "I don't want him." Chuck turned back and stepped back into the room. He settled on the seat beside the bed and took her hand in his. _

_And there, in silence, he sat until they came._

end


	7. not an update arranging fics

Arranging GG fics.


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